Do you recall when reading a Victorian Romantic novel, the heroine complaining about how dirty it was to take the train? Here she is going from London to Somerset, worried about the soot landing on her or a cinder getting in her eye. "Sir, would you be good enough to close the window, I am getting all smutty from the soot?"
When last at the Village, I took the train and like the Victorian heroine, I was covered in smut when I got off the train. First time that has happened to me and I said to myself , "I am all smutty"